


Undone

by eidheann



Series: Unabated [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Bottom Draco, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Hung!Harry, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Size Kink, Smut, Top Harry, mentioned intergluteal/intercrural sex, mentioned switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidheann/pseuds/eidheann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the months since he'd started sleeping with Harry Potter, Draco's carefully ordered life fell to shambles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY capitu!!! I was trying to decide what to do for you but figured a sequel to last year's [hung!Harry fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3434312) would be okay. <3 I had hoped to get this done before you left, but I missed the window. So. A wee bit late. I LOVE YOU!

In the months since he'd started sleeping with Harry Potter, Draco's carefully ordered life fell to shambles. Some mornings he awakened to his kneazle's familiar cold nose and whiskers, but others to scratchy stubble and wandering hands. When it was Salazar in his bed, nudging him awake, he was able to continue his morning as planned. He could feed the kneazle, shower, eat, read the paper, and make his leisurely way to work.

He liked those mornings.

When Potter was in his bed, things were made infinitely more complicated. Potter didn't need to be up until mid-morning, and prying himself away from Potter's half-asleep groping always required more effort than Draco liked to think about. Worse still was when Potter had glommed on tightly, because in his sleep he seemingly had more arms than the Giant Squid, rocking his erection against Draco's arse and back.

Draco hated those mornings. He hated those mornings because he _loved_ those mornings. Enough to be worth staying in bed a few extra moments before reaching out to smack Potter in the face with his pillow in effort to get out of bed in time to make it to work.

But the best mornings were the third kind. Dozey weekends, when the sun shone in fat golden beams across his floor, and after dealing with Salazar's food dish, he could climb back into bed, under the warm, heavy weight of Potter's arm.

He wasn't certain what part was the best: when Potter let out a mostly-asleep murmur, pulling him close and snuffling into his hair, or the sex that invariably followed when they both finally woke up. 

Potter was turning Draco into a sap.

**

"Mmf. G'morning."

Draco pried an eye open to glare at Potter, still looking warm and hazy with sleep. "Fuck off."

Potter grinned, arms wrapping tightly around Draco, and dragging him closer into Potter's warmth. "Well happy birthday to me, then."

"Not your birthday. Not fucking July," Draco mumbled into his pillow.

"That makes it even better."

Potter curled tightly behind Draco, brushing his stubble against Draco's ear to make him squawk at the tickle. "Fucker!"

Potter laughed. "You're always such a joy in the mornings." He did one of his stupid Auror moves, rolling on top of Draco and nipping the nape of his neck, sparking arousal down his spine. "Good thing you're such a good shag." He rocked his hips once against Draco's backside before snuggling close again, belying the words.

"Well if someone let me _sleep_ …."

" _Excuse_ me," Potter's voice was scandalized. "But who was it that insisted on a shag after the pub last night? Oh right, it was _you_."

Draco chuckled in spite of himself. "Oh please, you were gagging for it."

"Mmf." Potter nuzzled into his neck again, laying kisses down his shoulder. "Also your cleaning charms are shit. I still feel half-full of lube."

"Ugh." Draco elbowed Potter in the ribs. "As your chances of getting a shag this morning plummet."

"From one hundred percent to what? Ninety-nine-point-nine?" Potter wriggled his hips, wedging himself between Draco's thighs. "Besides, it doesn't matter because I'm fucking you this morning."

"Oh really?" Draco could feel his cock filling in spite of his words, and rocked his hips briefly against the friction of the sheets.

"Yes. And you're just going to lie there and take it like a good boy."

Draco sent Potter a look over his shoulder. "Really?"

"Mm-hm." Potter continued laying kisses down Draco's spine, one hand sliding slowly down his flank. "I know it's a challenge for you, but I have faith you can do it."

"Merlin, just stop fucking talking." Draco groaned into the mattress as Potter slid further down, before tilting his hips up hopefully.

Potter huffed a laugh, grabbing the flesh of Draco's arse and squeezing. "Can do that. Other things I'd rather do, anyway." Potter paused, and Draco could _see_ the grin on his face when he continued. "Like you!"

Draco flipped his pillow back in Potter's general direction, and Potter laughed again, lifting Draco's hips and wedging the pillow beneath him. "Thanks."

"You are enraging."

"I'm also the one who's gonna put his mouth on your arse, so you should try to be nicer."

"Argh." Draco reached out, snagging Potter's pillow. He pulled it over his head, hiding the flush of his cheeks, torn between arousal and embarrassment.

Potter shifted, hand following the wave of gooseflesh crossing Draco's skin. The hand still on his arse was quickly joined by the second, and Potter kneaded the flesh there for a moment, thumbs inching inward and slowly brushing along his crack.

Draco's breath hitched, and he shivered. Potter groaned, and then there was a moment of stillness before Draco could feel the hot puff of Potter's breath against him. His back arched, arse pressing back toward Potter. Potter made a noise like he was drowning before suddenly he was _there_ , face pressed against Draco's arse, tongue tracing a lazy pattern behind his bollocks.

Draco keened, hips rocking before Potter grasped him firmly, tongue continuing its maddening path. It was hot, smooth where it touched, only to chill as it continued along, winding its way up Draco's crack. Draco pushed back again, and Potter moaned and pulled away long enough to flex his fingers, thumbs pulling Draco open wider.

Potter licked a wide swath from Draco's bollocks to tailbone, then again. Draco reached back, fingers twisting into Potter's hair, and Potter moaned against him. The vibrations shot up Draco's spine, and his fingers and toes clenched in response.

It was easy to lose time. Draco's entire being was focused on Potter; how Potter's tongue alternately pressed and flickered against him, thumbs massaging his rim before one slipped slowly inside. He was gasping, light headed with the feeling that he couldn't get a deep enough breath, as if Potter was stealing it with each stroke of his tongue. His skin prickled with heat, sweat breaking along his back, dripping into his face.

Potter was relentless. Draco tried pleading, but had given up on coherency before Potter moved from his place to really begin stretching him.

And it was a stretch. Potter was so _large_ that most of the time they didn't take the time needed for Draco to take him. Sometimes Draco topped, but more often Potter rocked his length against Draco's arse or between his clenched thighs.

The feeling of being stretched was always different with Potter than it had been with anyone else. Always so slow, such a long, drawn-out tease that Draco's mind was left floating by the time Potter withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the blunt force of his cock.

It was too much. It was always too much. For all that Potter could stretch him with tongue and fingers for what felt like _hours_ , when it came to his cock, Potter allowed no quarter. He pressed, deeper, further, sliding in and in and _in_ until he was seated. Never paused for Draco to breathe, to _think_ , to give voice to the certainty that _this time_ he'd not be able to take it.

He could, of course. When Potter finally stilled, pressed so tightly up and in and against Draco that he could feel nothing but Potter's overwhelming presence, Draco's erection hadn't even flagged.

"Fuck," Potter breathed. And again, "Fuck."

Draco quivered as Potter's hands grasped his hips, tilting them up until Potter seated that much closer. They each moaned at the minute press, and then laughed, both sounding breathless.

Draco tilted his hips further, and Potter let out a strangled noise, hips rocking back before sliding in again.

"Do you intend on moving ever?" Draco's voice sounded wrecked to his own ears, but he arched his back again, and Potter's breathing stuttered.

It had the desired effect. Potter briefly tightened his grasp on Draco's hips, making one controlled slide that Draco felt all the way through him. Then his hands shifted, and Draco felt Potter's thumb rub where Draco stretched around his cock. "Look at you," he murmured, voice strangely reverent.

Draco swallowed around the heaviness in his throat, feeling his skin heat at Potter's words. Embarrassment warred with arousal, and Draco whimpered. Potter shushed him softly, hips rocking, thumb continuing the maddening slide. "So good. You're so good."

Draco shivered again, and the heaviness in his throat spread, down into his chest and up into his head. He gasped a breath, trying to fill his lungs as they squeezed tight at Potter's words. He loved Potter. _He loved Potter_. Fuck.

Potter continued to rock deep into Draco, ignoring or otherwise unaware of the imminent breakdown. He placed lines of kisses, soft, gentle, across his shoulders, hand finally moving to absently trace along the skin of Draco's chest, before stilling, palm flat over his juddering heart.

"Draco." Potter's hips slowed, and he brought his other hand up, tilting Draco's chin. "Draco?"

Draco blinked, vision hazy, but he could still see Potter's expression sharpen. "Nothing. I—"

Potter shook his head. "This isn't nothing. Are you… Am I—?"

"No!" Draco knew that if Potter thought he was hurting him, he'd stop, and Draco couldn't face that. "No. I just. Please."

"This obviously isn't nothing." Potter started to pull away, but Draco reached, pulling Potter's hips in against him again. "Draco—"

"No. This isn't. Please don't stop." Draco took a breath, forcing the feeling down. "This isn't this. I."

"If something is wrong, we need to discuss it." Potter's voice was so horribly gentle that Draco had to close his eyes. He couldn't deal with the intimacy of Potter's voice, his face, far worse than the stretch of his cock.

"I…" Draco swallowed again. "After. I promise. Please don't stop."

It seemed for a moment that Potter would refuse, that his damned Gryffindorishness would halt this here. Draco wasn't entirely certain what he was afraid of. Potter liked him, he'd known that from the beginning. And while he was an arse, Potter wasn't cruel. But he couldn't help but see this as an ending, and he didn't want to give up his last chance with Potter, to break the spell with words.

Finally, Potter nodded, soft fingers brushing Draco's hair from his eyes, and began rocking into Draco again. Draco closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling: the stretch of his rim around Potter's cock, the ticklish brush of hair against the backs of his thighs, the heat of Potter's chest against his back. 

His bed smelled like Potter. It was that as much as the firm stroke of Potter's hand on his cock, Potter's cock buried deep inside him, which sent him closer to the edge with each breath.

Potter was closer than he was, however, and soon his measured thrusts shifted, becoming harder and more erratic. It continued until with a moan, hand gripping Draco's hip tight enough to mark, that he shuddered and stilled.

His grip on Draco's cock stilled, too firm for him to thrust into, and after a few breaths, he pulled away. His cock slid slowly out of Draco, and Draco whimpered at the hollow feeling it left before Potter slid two fingers back inside him, pressing firmly.

"Come on, Draco." Potter's voice was rough as he began stroking Draco's cock once again. He twisted his other hand, knuckles rubbing against Draco's sensitive rim, and rocked between them. "Come on."

Potter's hands and voice were Draco's entire world, and he felt stretched thin, strung between them. He keened, and Potter pressed his fingers in further, deeper. "Come on."

It was the space of a breath. Draco had been close, but Potter's words pulled the pleasure out of Draco, his ejaculate spraying the sheets beneath him.

Draco shivered in the aftershocks, and Potter reached around, sprawling back onto the bed and pulling Draco into a firm embrace against his chest. Draco closed his eyes as Potter held him, not wanting to break the warm silence of the moment.

But Potter didn't seem to have the same hesitation. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Draco buried his face in Potter's chest, wrapping an arm around his waist even as he cursed himself the need to cling.

" _That_." Potter gestured vaguely. "You said you'd talk to me." Then, when Draco burrowed more tightly against him, "Draco."

"I just." Draco swallowed. "I just realized some things."

"What? Like you left the kettle on?" Draco's shoulders tightened at Potter's amused tone. "Hey. Just wait. Don't do this, Draco. You need to spell things out for me." 

Draco sat up, moved away from Potter, shivering away from his heat. He wrapped his arms around his knees; it was a defensive posture, and he could hear the little voice in the back of his head chiding him for being so _obvious_. "I don't… do well with change."

Potter blinked at him, expression going slack with surprise before his eyebrows furrowed. "What? What's changing?" He sat up, a hand reaching toward Draco before pausing, just out of reach. "Draco?"

Draco flinched slightly at Potter's worried tone, tucking himself tighter behind his knees. "I… I don't know. I…." Draco paused, voice failing him. He couldn't bring himself to look at Potter, at the worried expression he _knew_ was waiting because Draco couldn't say the words that would make everything better.

"Are you—"

"I love you." The lump in Draco's chest was spreading, suffocating him. "I love you. I don't." Draco swallowed, attempting to quiet his breathing. "I love you."

Then strong arms wrapped around him, Potter grasping him tightly. "Shh. Hush, Draco." Potter brushed a kiss against his forehead, then pulled him closer until he was sprawled half on Potter's lap. "Draco."

"What?" Draco's voice was muffled in Potter's chest, but he didn't care. He clung tightly to Potter, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. "You think I'm good, I'm not, I'm—"

"Shut up. No one is _good_ like that. I don't _want_ good like that. I want _you_. Draco Malfoy, prickly arsehole." Potter sighed. "Why would I spend time with someone who _doesn't_ piss me right off? Would be boring. And you're not so bad as you think, anymore, either."

"You're an idiot." Draco mumbled again.

"Probably." Potter ran a hand through Draco's hair, petting it gently, voice impossibly fond. "But now that I know you _like_ me, you'll never get rid of me. Like your fucking kneazle."

Draco shivered again, leaning into Potter's warmth. "Kneazle's easier to be around."

"Kneazle doesn't suck your cock. Seems a fair trade."

Draco cursed the flush he felt staining his cheeks and he reached out, pinching Potter's side. He felt the knot slowly loosening at Potter's squawk and shove, the familiarity easing some of his fear. "You didn't, either."

Potter leered at him. "May have to do something about that, then."

Then Potter tackled him, following him down. Draco closed his eyes, losing himself in Potter's mouth, and the slow relief that things hadn't changed, that he could keep this, keep Potter. And he would.


End file.
